Twisted Truth
by DoubleTrouble28513
Summary: Special Agent Tony DiNozzo gets a blast from his past - and then some - after getting a phone call from the hospital... BEING REPOSTED AS A BETTER STORY! I hope... Chapter 6 is back up!
1. Panic

_Disclaimer: I do not own any part of the wonderful NCIS universe. I am merely (and innocently…*ha ha ha*) playing with the characters. (Insert evil laugh here…*clears throat* MUA ha ha ha ha haaaaaa….how was that?)_

_Also, we don't own anything that you recognize, including commercials...this is just for fun and laughs only :)_

_This is set after the season 6 finale. I know, I'm a little behind the times, but I'm reposting this story. If you've read it before, some small things have been fixed in the first two chapters. Third one, I'm changing a lot, so don't be surprised that you need to read it all again!_

* * *

"That's never gonna happen, you arrogant little toe rag!" Tony DiNozzo scoffed as he and his opponent circled the desk and chair. "You're not getting out of here alive!"

"And how, exactly, are you gonna stop me?" his adversary countered. "I have your gun, you moron. You left it on your desk."

Tony sneered. "You're gonna shoot me with my own gun? Don't you think I have a back-up?"

"I don't care if you do or not. You and the girl will both be dead by the time you can pull it." The assailant grinned evilly as he aimed the service weapon at its owner.

The elevator doors opened to allow three other federal agents onto the floor with their guns at the ready. Tony, unarmed, paid them no mind as he stopped behind the office-style chair and leaned his arms over its back. "Well," he intoned sarcastically, "isn't that special?"

A gunshot rent the air, causing everyone in the room to flinch. The newcomers shifted their aim, searching for the shooter. "Tony!"

* * *

_Insert opening credits here_

_Jessi: Du na na ... *starts humming NCIS theme* _

_Tracy: Oy Vey…_

_(And if you were watching on USA… this show is brought to you in part by Herbal Essences…)_

_Jessi: I've got the URRRRRRGE…*flips hair*_

_Tracy: Jessi, give me back the laptop!_

_Jessi: Wait! I haven't advertised the conditioner yet!_


	2. Where It All Begins

_I don't own it, I just play in the NCIS sandbox after the cat. _

_If you've read the story before, this chapter was only fixed up. It's still about the OC, who's not one of the Team. None of the recognizable characters will be in the chapter, but I'm still doing the commercials..._

* * *

_The day before..._

The teacher ran after me, clutching a textbook. "Chelsey Lambert?" she called out. She was a sub, and a new one at that. "You left your book on the table. Are you … leaving?"She sounded terrified at the notion.

I would be, too, I realized. I was the only reason the entire place was calm. Everyone at Langley High had learned (some the hard way, others the easy way, most through rumors) that unexpected loud noises and human contact caused me to lash out violently. "For the day, yeah," I nodded regretfully as I pushed my wavy-chestnut hair behind my ears. "Just gotta find my sister, and then we're off."

She handed me A Brief History of the United States and begged, "Can you at least tell them to behave?"

I laughed. "It's not that they listen to me. They're afraid of what I might do to them if they disturb me. I'm paranoid and trained in self-defense. Not a good combination, let me tell you. I'd help if I could. Sorry."

I walked upstairs to my locker and put all my school stuff away. I was confident that I knew the material for the physics test the next day, so I decided to take a break from studying for a night. As I shut my locker carefully, I heard someone further down the hall crash into metal doors. Turning, I saw that same someone on the ground – my sister.

Slinging my purse over my shoulder, I patted my pocket to make sure I had everything. I was about to call out to Chrissie, see if she needed help, but then I noticed her boyfriend looming over her threateningly. After softly snarling, "Richard," I decided to approach silently. I had never liked the guy – 'womanizing sonuvabitch' was, quite possibly, the most affectionate thing I'd ever called him, even before he'd started dating my sister. I had a feeling he was abusive, but Chrissie wouldn't listen to my fears, no matter how accurate my instincts usually were.

"You stupid bitch!" he hollered at her, slapping her across the face. "You told her, didn't you?" Crying, she shook her head. He grabbed a fistful of her hair in one hand and her throat in the other, clearly unsatisfied with her response. Again, he demanded, "DIDN'T YOU?"

It took every last bit of willpower to leave my switchblade in my pocket as I snuck up on Chrissie and Dick. Well, everyone else called him Rich, but, even on our first day at Langley High, I felt my nickname suited him better. Finally standing behind him, I tapped his shoulder. He whipped his head around, forcing his jaw into my waiting fist of steel. Immediately, he relinquished his hold on Chrissie, who scrambled behind me before standing up.

"Let me make this perfectly clear," I growled ferociously, my green eyes staring him down furiously, "The only two reasons you're not bleeding to death right now are that, first, my sister doesn't need to be haunted by that image, and, second, I possess an ounce of self-control, unlike you, you sadistic little wife-beater. So if you ever touch, talk to, or even think about her again, I will make sure you regret it for the rest of your miserable life." I paused for sinister effect before sneering, "Got it, Dick?"

Something in my eyes, or my protective-yet-ready-to-strike stance, changed his mind about protesting the dual-meant nickname. He nodded, moaning and wincing as he touched his jaw. Satisfied, I turned and dragged Chrissie to her locker. I waited impatiently for her to grab her purse, and then quickly tore down all the pictures of the dirt bag. She knew better than to protest, and a glare, one that would have made Antarctica seem tropical by comparison, reminded her of that when she opened her mouth. I ripped the photos into tiny pieces of confetti and threw them in the trash as we left.

"Don't I get a say in this?" Chrissie asked as we got in the car.

I buckled in before replying curtly, "No."

"Chelsey -"

"No!" I cut her off angrily. "We're not doing this now! We will enjoy the rest of the day shopping. When the mall closes, it's girls' night out, you, me, Beth, and Jenna."

"That's not fair, sissy," she whined. "They're both gonna side with you right away!"

"Probably," I replied, falsely bright. I had to put all my anger aside for a few hours; the upcoming confrontation would go far more smoothly if we, and, in particular, I, had calm down some. "But they will at least let you have your say." I glance at Chrissie and smirked. "So, if we're good for now…drive, wench!"

Neither of us spoke for the duration of the ride, though the silence was far less oppressive than as we walked through the school. When she pulled into a parking spot, she looked over at me and asked desperately, "Do you have to call me Chrissie?"

"I do, sweetie," I murmured, "for my own, whacked out reasons."

She nodded in understanding, disappointed that I had yet again refused to call her 'Tina', as she preferred, but relieved that I had responded with my customary phrase.

We walked through the main doors of the mall, and Chrissie grabbed my wrist. "Come on!" she squealed, leading me to the prom dresses. I gave the token protests expected of me, but kept up without being dragged. After a few moments of gaping at the huge selection of gowns, we dove in and took several apiece to the dressing rooms.

Chrissie let me model my choices first, and the one that she liked most was, actually, the one that felt like it was made just for me. It was emerald green, with beading around the waist, like a belt. Over the skirt of the dress, straight and sleek, was a matching mesh complete with rhinestones.

"Oh," Chrissie whispered breathlessly as I spun, "you look like an Irish princess! It's gorgeous! You're stunning!" That settled it—I was buying this most perfect dress as soon as I took it off.

It was then Chrissie's turn to show off her selections. When she modeled her first choice, my jaw dropped. The style of the poufy-bottomed dress made her look like Cinderella going to the ball…but the color! "Let me call the Oompa Loompas to roll you out of here, Violet!" I quipped as she glared me down. "Well, you wanted my honest opinion!"

"My mistake," she muttered.

The next dress was a beautiful gold. It would've been great, except it flared out sharply at the bottom. "Who's your date," I asked sarcastically, "Lumiere, from Beauty and the Beast?"

Upon seeing her third selection, I choked on my laughter. The gown was a monstrosity! Canary yellow and hot pink combined to create the world's worst color since puke green. Paired with a frilly, tutu-like skirt, she looked like a color blind ballerina. There was no way I could even attempt to vocalize my opinion without it coming out sounding completely wrong, so I bit my lip. Standing up, I grabbed one of my rejects and handed it to her. Somehow I managed to stifle my laughter when I opened my mouth to say, "Try this."

"So this one failed, too?" she remarked dryly, causing me to snort. I covered my mouth quickly and nodded. She grinned as she closed the door.

A few minutes later, she came out again. The sapphire-blue brought out her equally blue eyes. It was hemmed on an angle, starting at the right knee and falling three-quarters of the way down her left calf. The satiny sheen made it look even more elegant.

"I knew I took that one for a reason!" I proclaimed triumphantly. "That one's perfect on you! Don't even look at another dress!"

After paying for the dresses, and placing them carefully in the car, we stuck around like typical mall-rats. At one point, as I was texting Beth and Jenna to alert them about the G.N.O, Chrissie froze. She had seen Richard, who was glaring shrieking death at us. When I saw who she was looking at in terror, I growled. As my eyes took on their 'frozen tundra is warmer' expression, I aimed a finger gun at him and mockingly pulled the trigger. He turned away, fear in his eyes; I smirked coldly. I put my arm around Chrissie and whispered, "Let's go get the girls, shall we?"

It was already 7:30; the four of us could go get fast food before getting we did, eating our burgers in the car while complaining about our teachers. Finally, at 10:30, when our remaining food was nasty, Beth got us down to business, saying, "You two don't call GNO's for nothing. So, what happened?"

All three of them flinched at the instant hostility in my eyes and voice. "The idiota she called a boyfriend slapped her across the face and grabbed her by the throat," I hissed. "Then he had the gonads to try to intimidate us at the mall."

Beth was impressed. "You mean, you didn't kill him outright for that? Wow, you really do have self control!" I laughed.

"She punched him!" Chrissie said defensively, trying to make me the villain.

"No, I didn't!" I cried with an exaggerated gasp, "I would never punch someone who's got his hands full."

Jenna coughed. "Let me guess…he turned into your waiting fist?"

"Damn straight!" My part done, I let our friends take over.

"How long has he been abusing you, Tina?" Beth demanded.

"He's not abusive!" Chrissie protested, glaring at me. "He loves me!"

"Okay…" said Beth, even angrier than before, "let me rephrase. How long has he been hitting you? Knocking you around? Has he left bruises? How many times has he told you, 'I'm sorry baby, I'll never do that again?'"

Chrissie shot me another glare. Clearly, she hadn't realized I knew who to pick. "How would you know anything about it?" she spat hatefully.

"Because that's how my mom was with me and my brother," Beth replied coldly. "Until fifth grade, when she hit me in the face and my teacher called Social Services."

Chrissie blanched; Jenna grinned darkly. "There are certain signs that abuse survivors look for if they refuse to get in another destructive relationship, or to let another suffer through one. And before you ask, it was my dad, till he died last year. Verbal and emotional abuse…so no one ever really knew."

The three of them looked at me. "My uncle," I finally croaked. "Just…I can't…I…don't make me talk about it."

"Uncle Nathan never touched you," Chrissie retorted.

"Not our uncle," I stressed, gritting my teeth. "My uncle." Chrissie's eyes lit with vague understanding, but Beth and Jenna remained confused. "Ma adopted me after my mom died. I was ten."

Both nodded sympathetically. Beth, catching my eye, said simply, "He raped you, didn't he?" I held her gaze for a second before nodding and looking away.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?" Chrissie wondered.

Beth answered for me, "It's not exactly something you wanna advertize. 'Hey everyone, I'm a punching bag! Take a swing; I won't fight back.'"

Jenna nodded grimly. "Didn't you wonder why you were the only one to protest his nickname? Beth and I agree with Chelsey. He is a-"

Hitting the baack of her seat, Chrissie exploded. "Chelsey's right - she's always right! I'm sick of it - sick of this - of being controlled! Of everyone else making decisions about my life for me!"

"We're not making any decisions for you, Tina," Jenna reasoned.

"She did!" Chrissie's accusing finger missed my eye by a millimeter.

"You're right," I spat venomously, "I chose for you to break up with a guy who would eventually make you wish you were dead. I chose for you to be safe. I chose for you to live without fear. I chose to protect you!"

Beth eyed Chrissie angrily. "You know, you're lucky. You have a sister who wants to spare you the mental anguish we experience whenever we happen to remember those times. I guarantee you, Chelsey and Jenna have wondered, thousands of times, if they did something to deserve their torture." We nodded in agreement. "I know I do. Because Chels acted right away, when she had proof of her suspicions, you know, beyond the shadow of a doubt, that you didn't. She validated your basic rights, like my teacher did for me, by getting you out of a dangerous situation."

Jenna held her hands up peacefully, though rage flickered in her eyes as well. "I see both sides. Chels, who made the decision?"

"I did," I said immediately. "I'm not gonna stand aside and watch her self-destruct."

"What makes you think you know what's best for me?" my sister sneered.

"Past experiences," I countered furiously, "I am experienced in tae-kwon-doe. I can SINGE _(solar plexus, instep, nose, groin, and elbow…as in dislocate or break a guy's elbow…A/N: Thank you, Miss Congeniality 2, for the first four!) _a guy, and have done, without fire. I could take a steering wheel and use it lethally. If I wanted, I'm quite sure I could kick a guy in the leg and snap his spinal cord. Can you claim any of that?"

"LADIES!" Beth jumped in quickly, pointing at the time. "Why don't we declare peace until tomorrow afternoon?" Neither of us said anything, anger and frustration evident on both of our faces. "Okay, how about a cease-fire, in any case? I mean, there's no need for Langley to think we're on the verge of World War Three, right?"

We held the glares for another few seconds before we each nodded and looked away. "Usual for tomorrow?" I asked blankly.

"Yeah," Chrissie replied, equally robotic. "7:30?"

"Sure."

Chrissie drove first to Beth's house, where I got out too. My instincts screamed at me as I shut the door. "I love you, sis."

I couldn't say for sure who was more shocked. We had played out this sequence many times before: fight, spend the night at separate houses (because otherwise we'd keep Ma, an overworked nurse, up the rest of the night), meet up the next morning, and most importantly…have coffee. Not once, that I could recall, had either of us reaffirmed our sisterly adoration after the fight, particularly one this heated. To be fair, I wasn't sure if I had told her at any point in time since we'd moved from Cambridge, MA. It had been almost three years since those three little words last passed from my lips.

She popped the trunk so that I could get my travel bag. "Love you too, Chels."

Beth and I quietly entered her house, and tiptoed up to her room. I pulled out a sleeping bag as she dropped one of her many pillows on my head. "G'night," she mumbled.

"Night," I whispered as I grabbed my cell phone. When I was certain Beth was asleep, I called Ma. She was working overnight at the hospital, but she'd get the voicemail at the end of her shift. I waited for the requisite tone, and spoke softly but clearly: "Hey Ma, it's me." Even by that, she'd know it wasn't Chrissie, who usually said, 'Its Tiiiiiina!'. "I just wanted you to know, that I'm staying at Beth's tonight, and Chrissie is at Jenna's. Yes, we got into another fight…a major one. I'll tell you about it when I can." I paused for a second before adding, "I love you, Ma."

Strangely, I gave no other parting words before hanging up. Equally odd was the fact that I hadn't said 'bye' to Chrissie either. It was almost like I wanted those to be the last…I pushed the thought aside and laid down, hoping to fall asleep.

The next morning, I was up at 6:30am (having gotten NO sleep,) packed and dressed by 7:05, and halfway to the coffee shop by 7:10. Upon arriving, I ordered Chrissie's medium-iced-hazelnut-regular, and three large-iced-snicker-doodle-extra-extras for me, which, considering I hadn't slept, usually kept me going until lunch.

The girl behind the counter asked, "What was the fight about?"

"Her boyfriend," I sighed, "who hit her in front of me and, thanks to me, is now her EX."

Andi paused in making one of my coffees. "You deck him?"

I'd known I was predictable since they started calling my coffee 'the Chelsey', but this was ridiculous! "More or less," I answered.

She chuckled. "Man, I wish I'd been in school with you!"

"Thanks…I think." I grinned, stealing one of the much-needed cups. She smiled gratefully when I handed her fifteen bucks and winked.

Ten minutes later, I walked into the park, taking the quickest route to our usual meeting place, a statue of Nathan Hale. I looked ahead, and couldn't believe what I saw.

Chrissie was sprawled out on the ground, blood staining the front of her shirt, her blonde hair also soaked with blood. For the first time in my life, I dropped my liquid awareness. I pulled my switchblade from my pocket, and defensively scanned the area. No one in the area could have done it, since no one was _in_ the area besides me, and I'd just arrived.

Even as I locked the blade shut and shoved it back into my jeans, I was pulling two business cards and my cell phone from my purse's external pouch. I grabbed Chrissie's hand - growing colder by the second - and folded it around one of the cards. I pressed the other between the phone and the palm of my hand. I wasn't going to take the chance that the wrong department investigated.

As I dropped Chrissie's arm, something jingled. A bracelet, I noticed. "Chrissie doesn't wear jewelry…" I realized aloud. I grabbed her wrist again to take a closer look. Gold links, emeralds and garnets alternating… "Oh no…" I breathed as I passed out.

* * *

_Brought to you in part by... CHILI'S!_

_Jessi: I want my baby back, baby back, baby back..._

_Tracy: Chiliiiiiiiiiiiii's... Baby back ribs!_

_McGee: *opera voice* Barbeque saaaaaaaaaaaaaauuuuuuuuuuuuce!_

_*Jessi and Tracy stop and stare*_

_Jessi: In my Timon moment, "very nice," McSinger!_

_McGee: *as Puumba* Thanks!_

_All three: I want my baby back..._

_*all three do jazz hands* RIIIIIIIIIIIBS!_

_McGee: CHAAAAAAAAAAAAA! *pauses, looks at girls* Uh, Tony's not gonna see this, right?_

_*Girls share evil look.*_

_McGee: Right? Oh boy..._


	3. Quid Pro Quo

_Hey everyone, Jessi and Tracy here! Please let us know if there are any products, stores, restaurants, etc. that you'd like to see the NCIS characters participate in. We have them planned out for this "episode," and episode 2, but there is going to be a third part, at the very least, so we do need some help for when we get there._

_And just so we're all on the same page, we're not making any money, blah blah blah, not actual endorsements, blah blah blah, reviews make the 'small world' song stop playing over and over in my head, blah blah blah … you get the idea. (Can you tell Jessi's much better than Tracy at making this part funny?) On with the show!_

* * *

The woman hung up the phone after listening to her voice mail a third time, disturbed. She was in her car, at home, staring at the cell phone in her hand, Her younger daughter trusted her instincts like no one else. That fact alone decided her; she dug through her wallet and found the laminated business card. Sticking it in the pocket of her scrubs, she went in the house and made her way to the kitchen for the lunch she'd forgotten on the table.

When she turned around, she shrieked.

A wild-looking man stood behind her, grinning ferally. "Hello, Rebecca. Or should I say, Eileen?"

* * *

Special Agent Tony DiNozzo looked at the dead woman, trying to recognize her. The blood-stained clothes and hair were helpful, in that he could focus on her face. He would swear he had seen her before, many years previously. He was also equally sure she was not a former lover.

Gibbs joined him, staring at the woman. "One of your girlfriends?"

"See, that's the thing," Tony tried to explain. "If she was, I wouldn't be so sure that I had seen her before. You get the whole 'denial about a former girlfriend' thing, right, Boss? I mean, you've been divorced three times-" Gibbs slapped him upside the head. "Shutting up, Boss."

The Metro police officer joined them. "When she didn't report back to work after an hour break, her coworkers asked me for a favor. I found her just like this. We started bagging and tagging. I called you when Dr. Cory found your business card in her pocket." He sighed heavily. "Look, I've already got to take two robberies and five assaults this morning, plus, whenever a day starts out like this, it's gonna be a long, crazy day."

"Full moon tonight," McGee informed them all.

"Actually, Timothy," Ducky corrected, "there is no statistical analysis that has determined that the full moon has an effect on the inherent 'craziness' of society, or of individuals. There was one time -"

"We'll take the case," Gibbs said, cutting Ducky off. "She's got your card for a reason, DiNozzo. Let's figure out why."

"Oh, so this has nothing to do with getting us out of another sexual harassment lecture?" Tony quipped.

Gibbs glared at the senior field agent before turning to the medical examiner. "What've we got?"

"It appears that she was shot," Ducky replied. "It wasn't a through-and-through, though, so I'll be able to retrieve it when we get her back to autopsy. She also suffered severe blunt-force trauma. It's likely that her head was slammed into the ground, right here."

Unseen by the others, Tony frowned. Something about those details haunted him, taunted his inability to remember. Before he could ponder it further, his phone rang. "DiNozzo."

"Victim is Rebecca Lambert, age 41," McGee reported when Gibbs turned to him. "She's widowed, single mother to two daughters, Christina and Chelsey. They're both seniors at Langley High."

Gibbs sighed. "We should go get them. School hasn't started yet, but-"

Tony put his phone away, slightly worried. "Actually, Boss, change of plans. We need to get to Carson Memorial Hospital. Two more of my cards showed up, on a pair of teens. One of the girls was admitted, but she has no ID; the other is Christina Lambert, and she's dead."

McGee took a few seconds to exchange email information with the police officer so NCIS could receive photographs of the crime scene from before they arrived. Together, the agents quickly gathered the pre-bagged evidence and stowed it in the van. Ducky, after getting help from the other ME, loaded the woman into the truck and followed the team to the hospital. All of them were curious about Tony's business cards showing up on three people, none of whom seemed to have any connection to the military or to him. Most curious of all was Tony himself.

* * *

Tony settled on the window ledge, waiting for the girl to wake up. As soon as he had seen her, everything made sense. When the nurse realized that he knew her, she asked him for her name. He just grinned silently.

As the woman dealt with the girl's IV, the girl's arm twitched. Her eyes fluttered, but didn't open. Finally, after a few seconds more, the girl squinted, groaning, "Just once, I wish a hospital would spring for something a little more cheerful, and infinitely less damaging to the retinas, than arctic white."

The nurse laughed as she checked the IV drip. "Me, too, kiddo. What's your name? You didn't have any ID on you," she explained when the teen only stared at her, "and he didn't want to be helpful."

At the mention of a man in the room, the patient looked around nervously. Tony thought she looked like she wished she had remembered her coffee that morning. She glanced uncertainly at Gibbs, McGee, and their weapons before her eyes landed on Tony. He smiled widely at her. Slightly confused but nonetheless relieved, she gave him a half-grin and relaxed. "Tony? What are you doing here?"

"Hospital called me," he explained. "My card was in your hand." He waited a beat, then winked. "You, uh, have protection?"

"Tony!" McGee admonished. Gibbs hit him upside the head. The nurse threw him a look of utter disgust.

The girl laughed musically. "That's the Tony DiNozzo I know and have come to love." She giggled at the three who raised eyebrows at her. "Yes, I do."

"Aw," Tony complained playfully, "come on, sweet cakes..."

Still grinning, she rolled her eyes. "Really? 'Sweet cakes?' It's been how many years, and you still can't come up with a halfway decent nickname for me?"

"Well, if 'sweet cakes' has being banished," he asked, playing his role perfectly, "what am I supposed to call you?"

"How about Chelsey?" she stated, only just managing not to add, 'Duh.' "I've even started answering to Lambert – there are four other girls in my homeroom alone who answer to Chelsea." Suddenly, she sat straighter, lost her smile, as she focused on something. "Where's my sister? Chrissie – where is she?"

"Chrissie, short for Christina?" Gibbs confirmed. Chelsey sized him up distrustfully, finally nodding minutely.

Tony noticed. "Chelsey," he growled warningly before indicating the man next to him, "this is my boss, Special Agent Gibbs."

She cringed as she shook Gibbs' hand. "Sorry, Special Agent DiNozzo. Nice to meet you, Mr. Tony's Boss." She paused for a second, then asked randomly, "Did you really threaten to knock the Italian out of him if he called you 'sir'?"

McGee choked on his laughter, and the girl turned to him. "You must be Special Agent McGee, then. The computer genius. Where's Special Agent … um, Todd?"

Almost imperceptibly, the three feds flinched. "Kate," Tony sighed, "she died, four years ago."

"My condolences," she offered sincerely before asking more forcefully, "Where's my sister?"

"Come on," Gibbs replied. "We'll take you to her."

Tony held his hands up when she questioned him with a glance. "Don't look at me. I've been ordered not to tell you anything."

Chelsey snorted. "Right, because you always do what you're told. Sure, Agent Gibbs, but my coffee's on you."

He nodded, agreeing to her demand as he signed the forms the nurse handed to him. She wiggled her ankles a couple times, silently acknowledging something to herself. "You are now in federal custody," Gibbs told her. Giving the clipboard back, he took the set of scrubs the nurse was holding and offered them to the teen. She glared at him. "They're new."

Her glare didn't lessen. "Two questions: where are my clothes, and why am I in custody?"

With a nod from Gibbs, Tony answered, "Your clothes were pretty well destroyed by the medical staff, unfortunately. That was a seriously cute outfit, by the way, you know, without the blood. And you're in custody as a material witness." He winked, adding suggestively, "Think of it as extra protection."

"Who's gonna protect her from you?" McGee groaned as the three men stepped out of the room.

Chelsey's eyes flashed with annoyance when the nurse remained behind. "Do you expect me to find a weapon in the scrubs the fed just pulled out of a package?" she muttered darkly, not expecting an answer.

"Are those scars recent?" the nurse asked. Tony flinched slightly at the question, but his colleagues didn't notice.

"No," the girl grunted. He could almost hear her silent mantra: 'Don't kill her. Don't punch her. Don't hurt her.'

"What happened to your ankle?"

This time, Chelsey growled. "Broke. Didn't heal right." Tony wasn't expecting her to finish dressing quite so quickly, so he was surprised when her voice echoed in the empty hallway. "Agent Gibbs, can we please leave? Like, last week?"

Tony and Gibbs shared a Look. "Another one for Ducky's ministrations, then," Tony sighed with a smirk.

At NCIS headquarters, the three agents led the girl to the agent's doors in the garage. Gibbs stopped them as they reached the elevator. "Do you have any weapons on you?" he asked her, staring into her eyes.

She rolled her eyes as Tony verbalized her thoughts. "Honestly, she's a lethal weapon. Worse than Mel Gibson. She doesn't need help to protect herself."

She shrugged. "What he said."

Gibbs studied at her a few seconds longer, but she didn't flinch. He nodded and led them into the elevator.

When the doors opened onto their floor, she rushed out, gasping for air. Even stone-faced Gibbs was worried enough to ask, "Are you okay?"

"Nope," she shuddered several seconds later when she could speak, gulping the air down like she'd never before taken a breath. As she shivered again, she added, "My claustrophobia hasn't been that bad in a long time." Tony ran a hand through her hair, calming her. Taking and releasing one last deep breath, she nodded, "I can function again."

Gibbs looked her up and down, seeming to agree with her assessment. He glanced at McGee, who snapped to attention and took her arm.

Tony saw her poorly-veiled flinch. "Probie," he called out, "you might need this." She wrenched herself free of McGee's grip to snatch the coffee Tony was holding. With a smirk, he added, "Because without it, she's as homicidal as Gibbs."

The ghost of a smile flickered across her face. "Ha ha." She cringed again and visibly restrained herself from running away in fear when McGee put his hand between her shoulders to lead her away.

"Tim," Tony said seriously as the younger agent turned away. McGee raised an eyebrow in question. The former cop's eyes were dark and homicidal. "If anything hurts her, or happens to her that she does not expressly want to happen to her, I'm holding you personally responsible for whatever damage is done. Capisce?"

Chelsey relaxed, heaving a sigh. Gibbs stared at his senior field agent. McGee gulped and nodded, "Got it."

After McGee had led the unresisting girl away, Gibbs turned to Tony. "Talk."

Tony took a couple seconds to decide what to say. "I made a promise to her a long time ago that I wouldn't let anything happen to her."

Gibbs' eyes narrowed into slits. "How do you know her?"

Tony shook his head. "Not my story to tell." The Italian smirked winningly. "If you can gain her trust, she'll tell you. But she won't say anything about it, just because you ask."

Gibbs stepped in closer. "What do I need to know about her?"

"She's as honest as Abe," came the quiet reply. "Don't sneak up on her – she takes it worse than anyone I've ever seen. Crowd her at your own risk. If she clams up, there's a reason, and it's probably that you asked the wrong question."

"And what she said about being able to function?"

"I told you, honest as Abe," Tony smirked. "She knows she's not fine, or okay, or whatever we usually say. So she told us that we could carry on as usual." Tony paused a second. "She's a good kid, Boss. I don't know what's going on, but she wanted me to know that something's rotten in the state of Denmark."

"You're too close to this, DiNozzo," Gibbs said as he stepped back. "I'm talking to her."

"I haven't seen her in three and a half years," Tony argued. "And I can get more out of her than you can. I already know how her mind works, and she can read me." Gibbs gave him the evil eye. "Observation, at least?" he sighed.

"Not a word," came his answer.

"Unless I can reword a question for you," Tony countered. Finally Gibbs nodded and walked toward the interrogation room. "Oh, Boss?" The man paused as the serious tone reentered Tony's voice. "That warning I gave McGee? Goes double for you."

* * *

McGee escorted Chelsey into the interrogation room, pushing the chair in as she sat down. Having pulled herself together with coffee and Tony's words, she grinned at him. "You know, he didn't mean you had to stay in here with me."

"I'm not taking a chance," McGee replied. "I've never seen that look in his eyes before."

"Not many people have," she murmured knowingly.

He watched her for a few seconds, then realized that she wasn't planning on elaborating. "You really want to be alone?" She nodded instantly. "If you need anything, just call for me. I'll hear you."

She nodded again, sighing heavily when the door closed behind him. She sat back in the seat and studied the room around her. Humming a random tune, she got up and walked around the table.

Tony materialized next to McGee in the observation room as she started twirling to music only she could hear. With a smile in his voice, he said, "She starts dancing when she's nervous. But as soon as Gibbs shows up, she'll be … more tomboy-ish. Tough as nails, call him on lies." Tony smirked humorlessly. "Gibbs may have met his match."

"No way."

Tony nodded. "Oh yeah."

They fell silent as Gibbs opened the door. Chelsey, eyes closed, spun around once more. "So what do you think," she asked without opening her eyes, trying to find her balance, "gold French, or natural French?"

Each of the agents raised an eyebrow. "What," Gibbs asked slowly, "are you talking about?"

She glanced at the one-way window, somehow meeting Tony's eyes through the mirrored glass, then stared at Gibbs, unimpressed. "I'm talking about girl things, Agent Gibbs," she bit out, leaning against the wall, "which Chrissie would have understood. Speaking of Chrissie, why isn't she in here, too? You said you'd bring me to her, but instead, I was escorted here." She glared at him, adding coldly, "Forgive me for thinking a Marine could be trusted to keep his word."

"Like I said," Tony muttered, "she'll call him out."

"She's behind the window," Gibbs answered, refusing to flinch as the barb struck home.

"Liar." She dragged out every letter. The glare she leveled on the senior agent could have frozen steam. "For whatever reason," she drawled angrily, "you're using her as leverage against me." Sitting properly on the chair once again, she took a sip of coffee and then leaned in, sneering. "I know the games played in an interrogation; I've played them myself. So don't think for a second that I'm your violin."

"So you have a record," Gibbs fished in slight surprise.

She laughed, a savage sound that had even Tony cringing. "Criminal record? No, I've never been arrested."

Her interrogator leaned back in his chair. "I can't believe I'm going to say this, but let's try someting different. I'll give you a straight answer – "

"For every straight answer I give you," she finished, the humor back in her smirk.

Tony raised an eyebrow. "Quid pro quo?"

Chelsey finished his thought. "Very Hannibal Lecter."

Gibbs returned the smirk. "Sound fair?" She nodded. "Good, I'll go first. What were you and Chrissie doing in the park together?"

"We, uh, had a fight last night," she ventured carefully, rubbing her neck sheepishly. "We were there to patch things up, hopefully. Before I mentioned her in the hospital, how did you know we were there together?"

"You were on top of her, unconscious, when someone called 9-1-1. Add to that the fact that both of you had DiNozzo's card in your hands, and ..." Gibbs trailed off, allowing her to mentally complete the sentence however she wanted. "What was the fight about?"

She growled, her eyes betraying her desire for a scrum. "It started out about the guy she was dating until 3:30 yesterday afternoon. It devolved into my being told I was making too many decisions for her, since I was the one to inform them, in no uncertain terms, that they were breaking up after I saw him slap her across the face."

The emotion in her eyes faded as she went on, "But the fight never got physical. Ask Jenna Martin or Bethany DeMarco – they were in the car with us. I swear to you, Agent Gibbs, I'd never intentionally and willingly harm my sister."

She unconsciously mimicked Gibbs as he took a sip of coffee. "Okay, third time's a charm. Where," Chelsey demanded, "is my sister?"

Gibbs hesitated. "She's downstairs." The girl's eyebrow raised without a conscious thought. Finally, he explained, "We picked up her body from the hospital morgue while we were waiting for you to wake up."

Tony could clearly see that Chelsey hadn't expected that type of answer. She simply stared at Gibbs in shock as he opened the file in front of him and laid some pictures on the table.

Several long seconds later, she glanced at the photos and studied one of the close-up shots. "She's … she's dead?" she clarified, her hollow acceptance of that fact echoing throughout the two rooms.

He nodded in confirmation, his voice softening as he said, "I'm sorry for your loss."

She closed her eyes for a quick moment, tears threatening to spill. They dried up as she looked at the photo. Even Tony could read her lips as she silently noticed a detail. "Bracelet," she breathed, too quietly for the recorders to pick up. Abruptly, she stood and started pacing, patting her pockets frantically. "I need to call Ma."

Gibbs nodded and handed her his cell phone. She stared him down for a millisecond as she dialed the number from memory. The call went to voice mail and, after cursing her misfortune, told the service, "Ma, it's me. Call me back at this number when you get this message. It's wicked important."

"Wicked?" Gibbs asked as she hung up.

"Boston," she said simply. "Well, Cambridge, but same difference." Before she could dial another number, the phone rang. She glanced hopefully at the caller ID, but handed it back to its owner disinterestedly. "It's Abby."

"Yeah, Abs … I didn't … Thanks." He flipped the phone shut and put it away. "Are you sure you called your mother? Not Chrissie?"

"Positive. Why?"

Ignoring the question, he went on, "What's her name?"

Tony observed the girl closely. Being able to read her like a book, he watched as she shut everything away inside her mind, until not even he could pick anything up from looking into her eyes. Gibbs' neck twitched, not pressing the issue only because Tony had warned him against doing so. He pressed the intercom button. "What's the name on her current driver's license?"

McGee stared at him. "Gibbs is gonna – "

"Do nothing," Tony hissed. "He knew I would help him out with wording. Don't ask."

Gibbs nodded at the window as Chelsey replied without hesitation, "Rebecca Lynn Lambert. What's going on?" Her eyes had narrowed suspiciously.

"Would she have had DiNozzo's card as well?" Gibbs demanded.

She nodded, her eyes glinting dangerously. "I gave it to her in case of emergency. What happened to quid pro quo, Agent Gibbs? What do you know about what's going on?"

Gibbs stared at her for a second, then pulled out a second folder. Laying more pictures on the table, he told her gently, "She's on an autopsy table next to Chrissie."

Chelsey's mouth dropped in horror. This time, even with the emotions locked up tight, she couldn't stop the silent tears as they escaped. As if she didn't want to, she picked up a close-up of her mother. Her eyes focused on one thing in the photo. "Necklace …" she trailed off in a whisper, her eyes returning to the picture of her sister. "Bracelet … Oh, no."

She was so wrapped up in her thoughts that she didn't hear Gibbs asking, multiple times, "What's wrong?" Trying to offer some comfort, he walked around the table and put a hand on her shoulder.

She reacted without thought, coming back to the moment at the physical contact. Gibbs landed hard on his back on the table, her elbow prepared to damage his throat at any second. Her eyes lit with recognition after Gibbs groaned in discomfort. "Sorry," she grimaced, stepping back. "I'm paranoid with a third-degree black belt in tae-kwon-do. And unfortunately, the paranoia seems to be well-placed," she muttered to herself.

Tony's back stiffened as understanding struck. "Tony?" McGee wondered quietly. "Is everything okay?"

"No."

Gibbs straightened himself up before Chelsey met his eyes. "Let me take a wild guess," she hedged hoarsely. "Ma and Chrissie were apparently killed by a gunshot wound to the stomach, though neither bullet has been recovered yet, and they also suffered severe blunt-force trauma to the back of the head."

Gibbs froze, unsure how to react. When Tony didn't intervene, he narrowed his eyes. "How did you know?"

* * *

_Jessi: This portion of the broadcast brought to you by Friendly's_

_Tracy: *cheesy announcer voice* Come in to Friendly's and try our new Orange Mango Madness shake._

_Jessi: Mmm, that sounds delicious!_

_Tony: *a la Sean Connery* That's shaken, not stirred._

_*WHACK*_

_Tony: *rubs back of head, looks down* Shutting up, boss._

_*McGee, in the background, celebrates quietly - Tony just called him 'boss.'*_


	4. Nuff Said

_**Chapter 4: Nuff Said**_

_If you think I own anything recognizable, I think you need to find someone wearing a Hug-Myself jacket and switch outfits with them. For non-Red Sox fans, that does include lyrics from the Dropkick Murphys' "Tessie." If I'm lucky, I own Chelsey. *shakes hands to rattle dice* Come on, lucky 7! *rolls* NO! Not snake eyes! I just lost everything!_

* * *

Gibbs led the girl back to the bullpen, his agents following behind. He pushed the girl toward the vacant desk next to his and pointed at the chair. "Sit. DiNozzo, with –"

"Speak," she retorted indignantly.

"What?" Gibbs stared in confusion at the girl who dared to interrupt him.

She came around the desk and patted him on the head. "Good boy," she said with the mother of all smirks.

McGee choked. "Did she just..."

"Yes she did." Tony's voice held a note of pride.

Gibbs took a menacing step toward her, but she didn't flinch. "First," she growled, "for all that I'm a bitch, I'm not a dog. Second, I believe in the golden rule."

A muscle twitched in Gibbs jaw, but he finally ground out, "Please have a seat while I talk to your self-appointed protector privately."

Chelsey's smirk became a genuine grin. "See? That wasn't so hard, now, was it?" She sat down on the chair and spun it around once. Tony was pleased to note that her eyes were closed. "And whatever you do," she went on in a monotone, "don't hurt him too severely. I need him healthy."

The agents stared at her, then glanced at one another. "McGee," Tony finally sighed, "try not to talk to her."

"Phone," Chelsey called out in the same indifferent voice.

Two seconds later, the phone on Gibbs' desk rang. With half a shrug, he answered the call. "Gibbs … Yep." Hanging up, he looked pointedly at Tony.

"On your six, Boss," the senior field agent nodded. "Keep an eye on her, Probie, but leave her be. She needs the rest." He stepped into the elevator as the doors closed. Gibbs flipped the switch. "Conference time?"

"No, DiNozzo," Gibbs replied with a glare. "I wanna hear all about your date last night."

"It was fantastic," Tony said. "She was blonde, tall ..." He faltered as Gibbs' glare became darker. "And she totally has no relevance to the matter at hand. You want to know about the girl. I can't tell you much, Gibbs."

"Can't," Gibbs asked dangerously, "or won't?"

"Mostly can't, a little won't." He stared his boss down. "I won't jeopardize her safety, and that's a distinct possibility if I tell you everything I know. The flip side is, I can't tell you what I don't know." He smirked. "And when it comes to her, that's a lot."

Gibbs nodded reluctantly. "How long have you known her?"

"Since 2000, I think. She was just shy of nine."

"How'd you meet?"

Tony paused. "No details." Gibbs agreed with a Look. "She was involved in a case I worked in Baltimore."

"Call her 'sweet cakes' back then, too?"

A chuckle passed Tony's lips before he could think. "No, actually, I called her 'princess' that day."

"Nurse noticed scars," Gibbs observed gently.

"On her back," came the equally quiet response. "She had them back then, too. When asked, all she would say was that it wasn't her mom who put them there."

"Father?"

Tony shrugged. "I asked her the same question, and I'll never forget what she said. She looked me dead in the eyes and whispered, 'You tell me.'" He shuddered. "It still creeps me out to think about it."

"Why don't you want McGee to talk to her?"

Tony laughed. "She's not asleep, she's resting. She'll respond to and remember everything said. And he won't stand a chance against her." Gibbs flipped the switch again, and the elevator resumed its descent. Tony cast a sideways glance at his boss, adding candidly, "You barely did."

Gibbs stared at him. "Yeah," he sighed as they entered Autopsy. "Whacha got, Duck?"

Ducky looked up, frustration in his eyes. "A problem, Jethro. I know I told you Mrs Lambert was shot, and that her daughter Christina suffered an identical fate. Unfortunately, I could not retrieve either bullet."

"Fragmented?"

"No," the doctor replied in horrified awe. "Both bullets were completely removed, from both victims. I sent their personal effects up to Abby; perhaps she will have more information for you."

Gibbs' phone rang. "Yeah, McGee … We'll be right up."

* * *

As they rounded the corner into the bullpen, McGee stood up and grabbed the remote. "Found a police report with the necklace and the bracelet. Thing is, it's from '96."

"They're two of four pieces stolen at a wake," Chelsey piped up emotionlessly, her eyes still closed. Gibbs stared at her as she pulled her legs to her chest and rested her head on her knees. "The other two are rings – a diamond ring, half-carat with a white gold band; and a mother-and-child pendant in rose gold, which was turned into a ring."

All three agents looked at her, then the screen, where all four pieces could be seen – the two they had in evidence, and the two rings, exactly as she had described them. Chelsey's eyes were still shut, and she was facing away from the screen. "Care to explain, Princess?" Tony asked.

"I'm not at liberty to discuss it."

Gibbs looked uneasy. "Are you sleep-talking?"

Her face softened. "Sleep-talking would require one to be asleep."

"So you're awake, then."

"Not strictly."

Tony chuckled as he asked, "Better question is, are you going to remember this when you're fully awake?"

"Yes, Tony, I'll remember. It's not something I can easily forget."

"How'd you meet DiNozzo?" Gibbs wondered, ignoring Tony's glare.

"He saved me," she said simply. "And that's all you need to know. Nuff said. Phone."

The word had barely left her lips when Gibbs' phone rang again. "Will you stop doing that?" he demanded in exasperation.

She opened her eyes, looking more weary than when she'd sat down. "Probably not," she replied.

Gibbs rolled his eyes. "Gibbs … Okay." Hanging up, he turned to the others. "Abby wants us." The two men followed automatically. When they were halfway to the elevator, the senior agent stopped. "That means you too, princess," he snapped.

"Only Tony can call me that," she corrected him defiantly, but she obediently stood and fell in line. "Couldn't send an engraved invite, huh?" she muttered under her breath.

They stopped at the elevator doors, held open by Tony and McGee. She paled. "Really?" she begged. Gibbs nodded, smirking. She gulped. "You know that Green Day song, 'Nice Guys Finish Last'?" she asked Tony, who nodded with a raised eyebrow. "They still haven't figured out how Gibbs rigged the race for everyone else, have they?"

Tony laughed in surprise, and she launched herself into his open arms. McGee bit his lip, and even Gibbs could be seen smirking in amusement as the doors closed.

* * *

McGee wasted no time in leaving the cramped elevator. Gibbs stepped out but remained in the hallway. Tony found himself dragging Chelsey through the closing doors. Her arms had wrapped and locked around his chest, and he had difficulty moving with her, especially since her legs refused to work. He leaned against the wall, whispering reassuring nothings in her ear.

Gibbs noted the glare from his senior field agent. "We'll take the stairs on the way up." Tony nodded. "Why is her claustrophobia so paralyzing?"

"Not now, Boss," Tony muttered.

Chelsey's arms tightened briefly before she finally released him. "I'm better now, Tony," she murmured when he didn't do the same.

"Boss already said stairs on the way up, Princess," he replied, keeping one arm around her shoulders. He met her eyes, and she nodded. He walked with her into the lab.

"Whacha got, Abs?" Gibbs asked.

She took a sip of her caffeinated slushy. "Not much, Gibbs," she said between slurps. "All the fingerprints on Tony's cards came back to the Lambert women, except one. Strange thing is, they all flagged. I had to match them visually."

"Flagged?"

"Yeah, as in they're persons of interest in a big case. But I can't figure out what one. The bracelet and the necklace had some epithelials that didn't belong to the victims." Chelsey gasped, flinching. The lab tech turned and was surprised to see someone clinging to Tony. "Who're you?"

The girl shrank back, and only Tony's arm kept her in the room. "Better, but nowhere near normal, huh? Princess, this is Abby Sciuto, our resident lab goddess. Abby, this is Chelsey."

"Oh, so she gets a full introduction," Abby returned, "and I just get her name? What is this, a bad – "

"Abby …" Gibbs warned.

She pouted for a split second. "Right. So, I ran the DNA, but I can't get the guy's name, age, anything. Except for his picture."

"How is that possible?" McGee wondered, bewildered. "If you got his mugshot, the information has to be somewhere."

Both Tony and Chelsey stared at the picture. Finally, Chelsey cleared her throat. "Abby? Have you had any hang-ups or prank phone calls?" Her voice was tiny, scared; she sounded like a little girl.

"No," came the reply. "We have systems in place to ensure that the official phones don't get crank calls."

The longer they stared at the picture, the paler the two became. Gibbs noticed. "You're quiet, Tony. You know him?" The Italian nodded silently. "How well?"

"Merde," Tony breathed in Italian.

"Convengo," the teen concurred before switching back to English. "Well enough to know he's not where he's supposed to be." She tilted her head in confusion. "Where's my purse? I need something from it."

"Where's he supposed to be?" Gibbs demanded as Tony nodded his agreement. "I don't like not having all the necessary information."

"I couldn't guess," she drawled her retort. Sighing, she closed her eyes as she answered, "Leavenworth. He killed a Marine lieutenant who was on leave in '95; convicted of first-degree murder in '04."

"Along with the kidnapping and statutory rape of several girls, including his niece, in 2000," Tony added darkly. Gibbs' eyes flashed.

"Baltimore PD picked him up on those charges first," she went on shakily, glaring at her protector. Her back had tensed; her hands had balled into fists as she tried to maintain her composure.

"How'd you know?" Abby wondered. "McGee and I can't even get his name!" Tony and Chelsey gave her the evil eye, both remaining silent. She raised her hands in surrender, saying, "I'm not the enemy, guys." Tony relented and looked away almost instantly

Chelsey held her glare a moment longer. "That doesn't mean you're a friend," she shot back, reigning in her emotions. Emotionless but confident once more, she went on, "You said you ran all the prints on Tony's business cards, and all but one visually matched Ma and Chrissie."

"Yeah …" Abby trailed off.

"Did you check mine?"

Four sets of eyes turned to her. "Why would I do that?" Abby asked.

"Because, until Gibbs tells anyone otherwise, I'm a suspect," Chelsey shrugged, holding her hand out.

"She's not a suspect, Abby," he countered. "She's a material witness."

The teen shrugged again. "Run them anyways. And then I need to get into my purse."

She looked at Gibbs, but, receiving no contrary command, brought the girl to one of the machines. When she had finished, Chelsey added, "I wasn't wearing gloves when I put the card in Chrissie's hand."

Silence fell in the lab, despite the music blaring from the speakers; everyone stared at her suspiciously, even Tony. Gibbs crossed the room and got in her face. "You admit to tampering with a crime scene and planting evidence?"

She opened her mouth to deny the accusations, but said nothing for a few seconds. "I didn't do it maliciously," she sighed, standing her ground, "but a federal agent should, I suppose, interpret it that way." Gibbs locked eyes with her.

"What do you need from your purse?" Tony asked as he left her side.

"Ma gave me a flash drive last week," she answered. "It's a family trait, that the women get a … premonition, I guess, about a week before they die. Gives them a chance to set their affairs in order and everything. Anyway, she didn't tell me what's on it, but she made me swear to open it as soon as I could after she died."

"You touched the body," McGee cut in. "Why?"

"Because I trust Tony," she said simply. "If anyone was going to investigate, for my own piece of mind, it had to be Tony. When I cleared the area, I just had a feeling that I wouldn't be the one to make the emergency calls, and my instincts are usually spot-on. I grabbed her wrist to find a pulse …" As she continued, her eyes glazed over, her voice becoming robotic as she gave her report. "There was none. I was going to call EMS, but when I dropped her arm, I heard something. A bracelet." She shook her head, as if to dislodge the memories. When she continued, she sounded more like herself. "Next thing I remember is being blinded in the hospital."

"You keep saying 'bracelet,'" Gibbs commented, "like it's somehow significant. Beyond the fact that it was stolen."

"Because it is," she whispered, displaying her arms and hands. "None of us has worn jewelry, of any kind, since …" She blinked. "Since before we moved here, at least."

Abby rubbed at her cuffs self-consciously. "Why not?"

The teen's eyes darkened as she growled, "I don't want to talk about it." Abby's computer beeped, flashing the message, 'Match found – Identity withheld.' The agents and Abby stared her down, not content to let the comments go. Chelsey sighed and, as she stuck the flash drive into the computer, elaborated, "Let's just say that, after something happened to me, I convinced them it wasn't the smartest thing to do."

A folder popped up with one document, and the girl clicked on it, an eyebrow raised. "What the …" Her eyes skimmed over the few lines, filling with tears. All of a sudden, she chuckled once. "Oh, Ma, you are a goddess!"

The lab phone rang. Gibbs met McGee's eyes, and the younger man nodded, typing commands into his computer. When the former Marine nodded to Abby, she pushed a button on the phone. "NCIS lab, Abby speaking. You're on speakerphone. How can I help you?" No one responded. "Hello?"

Chelsey rolled her eyes, grinning viciously. "Don't blame us if we ever doubt ya," she belted, assuming an Irish brogue. "You know we couldn't live without ya/ Red Sox, you are the only, only, only." She looked around the room and smirked as Tony caught on. Maintaining the accent, she said triumphantly, "And that's how ya break a Curse."

The woman on the other end chuckled. "Chelsey, then, I presume. Why are you at NCIS?"

Gibbs glared at the girl, wondering how trustworthy she was, and slightly worried about her sanity. "And who are you?"

"Don't worry about that," Chelsey snarled at him as she sneaked up next to him. "When, exactly were you going to call?"

"About what?" The woman seemed slightly wary of Chelsey's temper, which, in Tony's opinion, proved she had some common sense. "I just got in."

Chelsey hissed, like a cat whose tail had met the underside of a shoe. "About what?" she repeated coldly. "I don't know, Michelle, maybe Jason Cambell?" Michelle didn't reply. The girl's eyes turned glacial as she bit out, "You didn't know."

The group could hear the woman's head shake. "No, I didn't. You know I would have called immediately. Where is he?"

"Not in Leavenworth," Abby contributed helpfully.

"And I have more than a suspicion that he's not dead," Chelsey added angrily. Turning to Tony, she went on, "He's coming for us."

"Who's 'us'?" McGee wondered aloud.

Gibbs followed Chelsey's pointed look. "You and Tony?"

Michelle dropped something."Tony … DiNozzo?" she choked.

"Got it in one," Chelsey grinned humorlessly.

"As in the one who …"

"Yup."

"And your –"

"Mm-hmm."

"Yeah," Michelle agreed, sighing heavily, "he's after the two of you."

"Well, aren't you a little ray of sunshine?" Tony sneered.

Chelsey glared at him, then continued, "Considering your track record at protecting me and my family, I hope you don't mind me opting out."

"But he's coming –"

"I KNOW!" the teen shouted. "And one way or another, I won't be worrying about it tomorrow morning!" She slammed her fists on the table. "Damn it, Mikki," she cried, her voice breaking. "He killed them both! I can't keep living a lie – I NEED OUT, damn you!"

Tony came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her head.

"I can't release you," Michelle said regretfully. "You're not 18."

"You can," Tony growled angrily. His coworkers turned to him in surprise. "I already know, and I'm more than willing to take temporary custody."

"You don't understand, Agent DiNozzo," Michelle retorted. "It's not a matter of knowledge. She's not 18. She can't sign any legal documents for herself. And unfortunately, you have no legal standing to take custody of her."

"Unless it's in Ma's will," Chelsey said darkly. "She left me with an electronic copy, with the instructions to open the file as soon as possible after she died. I skimmed through it – Ma always likes to make things like this short and sweet. Everything is to be split between my sister and me. Custody is to go to one very Special Agent Anthony Dominic DiNozzo, Jr, who works at NCIS. I am also to give him the letter that's in the safe deposit box. And she fully acknowledges three names that none of us have used in a long time."

She pulled the document to the foreground, allowing her companions to read the legal paragraph. Abby nodded when she was finished. "Yeah, that's what it says."

"Send me a copy," Michelle demanded. Abby complied with a scowl.

"Lieutenant Commander Faith Coleman agreed to it," Gibbs noted the witness line. "Good JAG lawyer. I'm surprised a civilian went to her."

"Ma had her reasons."

Michelle sighed. "This is legit. Can I assume you don't really want to see me?" After several seconds, she said, "I guess so. I'll send someone over with the documents you need."

"I've got an idea," Chelsey piped up, glancing at Gibbs. "Know an FBI guy, or gal, that almost everyone bends over backwards for, so he won't go Tek to their A-Rod?"

She wasn't surprised that only Tony understood her reference to June 2004. "Fornell." Gibbs nodded.

"Give the paperwork to Agent Fornell," the girl ordered. "And it's been real nice knowing you. Hakuna matata, Agent Porter." She hung up, smashing her hand on the button.

The NCIS team just looked at her. "Okay, then," Gibbs said slowly, pulling out his cell phone. "Tobias, it's Jethro. I have someone who needs to speak to you.

Chelsey rolled her eyes, but took the phone anyway. "Hi, Agent Fornell," she said, forcing the cheer in her voice. "I have something here at NCIS that I think you might want in on."

"Really? What?" He sounded interested. "And who are you?"

"Who I am is unimportant at the moment," she replied. "Yes, really. And you won't find out what until you get here. By the way, I need a favor before you come. …"

Half an hour later, Agent Fornell strolled in, clutching a manilla envelope. The group in the lab had grown by one; Lt. Cmdr. Faith Coleman, a Navy lawyer working with the Judge Advocate General's office, had been in the building on another case when Gibbs had asked her to stop by the lab. After a general greeting, Fornell locked eyes with Chelsey. "You owe me big time, little girl."

She smirked. "And now you know."

Gibbs shook his head. "He says that whenever anyone needs a favor."

"Oh, no," Fornell countered, "I mean it this tome. Do you have any idea how long she ranted and raved at me about this?"

The teen laughed. "Sir, she's probably still going!"

"About what?" Lt. Cmdr. Coleman asked, trying to figure out how she fit in.

Chelsey passed the file between the two newcomers. "Read this," she said, "then Tony and I can look it over if we want. You make sure we understand the 'Legalese,' and then you, Tony, Agent Fornell, and I all get to sign."

As the lawyer looked through the paperwork, Fornell leaned over to Tony. "Do you have the slightest idea what you're in for?"

"Yup."

Coleman looked up from the papers. "You're good, Chelsey," she praised. "Very sneaky. Letter of the law. JAG could use someone like you."

"Thanks," the girl grinned, appreciating the compliment, "but I'm spoken for."

"I already know what it says," Tony waved the folder away. "She's released from their clutches, effective as soon as she and I sign the first one."

"And the second one," Chelsey added, "says that, for the next month or so, Tony's my legal guardian, again effective as soon as we sign."

The lieutenant commander nodded. "That's about the gist of it." Before long, the four had signed in the necessary places. "I'll file this immediately," she said quickly, closing the folder as she headed for the door. She paused and turned back to the group. "I don't know what's going down, but what ever it is, good luck."

"What was that about 'letter of the law'?" Gibbs asked suspiciously.

"The signatures required for someone to opt out of Witness Protection," Chelsey replied. "The agents in charge of the program usually get one of their own and a local shark, but the documents just require them from an FBI agent, a lawyer, and the person being released. If that person is underage, their legal guardian must also provide a John Hancock."

"You also said I'd want in on this," Fornell reminded her.

She smiled darkly. "Of course you do. You want to help stop the largest domestic human trafficker, right?" Everyone's mouth dropped, even Tony's.

"I thought you said something about kidnapping, statutory rape, and a Marine's death," McGee recapped, confused.

"Mm-hmm, those are the crimes he was convicted of." A feral grin crossed her face as she turned to the computer. "I never said I'd told you everything I know."

Gibbs came up behind her. "You might want to start."

Her fingers flew across the keyboard. "Touch me, McGee," she warned without looking, "and you'll be taking flying lessons too." Gibbs shot her a dirty look.

"She flipped Gibbs when he put a hand on her shoulder," Tony explained quietly to Fornell and Abby.

"W-what are you doing?" McGee stuttered at the teen.

"Two things, Probie," she muttered. "The more important is something all of you can do, too: Think of a foolproof plan to bring Jason Cambell down permanently."

"Poison him?" Abby guessed. "I can always lose the evidence, if necessary."

"Unless you have a way to get him to ingest cyanide," the girl countered cynically, "without the risk of one of us drinking it instead … never work." She continued typing feverishly.

"We could stop him before he gets in," Fornell suggested, "take him down outside."

"We'd have to do it before he got here," Tony replied. "He's got information that no federal agent would turn him away for."

The girl clapped once, grinning. "Oh, I'm sooo glad Patrick taught me that trick."

Everyone looked up at the projection screen. Abby pushed the interloper away from the keyboard. "What did you do?" she cried.

"Oh, nothing much," came the smug reply, "just hacked the external NCIS security feed." Abby's eyes widened in horror. The girl covered Abby's hand calmly. "Please, leave it."

"I'm not allowed to access this – "

"Abby," Chelsey stressed seriously, "I know that. I wouldn't do this if it wasn't absolutely necessary. I can't usually hack my own email, let alone – oh no. No, no, no. Sh- sugar honey iced tea," the girl stammered, blanching as she watched the screen. "This can't be happening."

"What?" Gibbs asked, protective and ready to kill.

Tony's posture matched Gibbs', but he had followed the girl's train of thought. "Where?"

"Top right corner," she choked out amidst random muttered curses.

Seeing what had her scared, Tony matched her shade of pale. "How long, do you figure?"

She gulped, closing her eyes in despair. "If we throw every last security measure at him … ten. Tops."

Tony turned her around to face him. Wild-eyed, he clarified, "Best-case scenario is that we have ten minutes to come up with a foolproof plan to take him out, the type of plan that usually takes months to set up and goes to hell in a hand-basket within 20 seconds of the FIRST CONFRONTATION?"

She laughed nervously. "Yeah, that's it in a nutshell," she replied, as close to emotionless as she could force herself to be. "Even better, we only get one shot at this."

Everyone's face grew steadily more terrified as they understood the gravity of the situation. They all looked up at the screen, watching him inch closer …

* * *

_McGee: *at computer* We've got to get to Puerto Rico tonight._

_Tony: *looking over McGee's shoulder* Those prices are too high, McGenius. The agency will never let us expense that! *Gibbs-slaps McGee*_

_McGee: *frustrated* So what else can I try?_

_Abby: *carrying Bert the stuffed hippo under her arm* Ooooh! I know! How about... *sings* PRICE LINE NEGOTIATOR! *squeezes Bert, he farts*_

_*McGee and Tony look confused and disgusted; each raises an eyebrow*_

_Abby: If it'd make you feel better, I could do my Shatner impression ..._

_McGee and Tony: *together, in fear* NOOOO!_


	5. Nerves

**OK, so I know I'm a little late with this. That's like saying kids like Christmas. To get the boring legal stuff out of the way, this story is clearly of the fictional matter, and DoubleTrouble28513 does NOT own any character from NCIS except Chelsey...who is awesome! (had to add that! heehee)**

**Read on and Enjoy! :)**

* * *

The agents allowed themselves three seconds of stunned silence. Gibbs broke out of the funk first, contacting security quickly. "Guy in a Red Sox jersey—you throw every bit of red tape at him…do NOT ask the Director. Just pass the order around to your men…NO! There's no time right now to brief him! Just do it!"

The whiz kids were trying to figure out technical ways to delay him. "What if…" McGee started, typing on his laptop, "what if, right when he gets to it, we cause the metal detectors to shut down?"

"And the elevators," Abby chimed in, inspired, "went old-person-driving-slow … and went to every floor except the one he wants!" She too, began typing orders to supercede the normal instructions.

Meanwhile, Fornell and Tony came up with plan after plan, each of which were dismissed cynically by the terrified teenager. "Well, what if we bump into him as he gets off the elevator?" Fornell sighed.

"First of all," she retorted, "that's how he got the Marine to trust him. Second, if it's me or Tony, the other just lost the only bargaining chip available. And third, if it's anyone else, he'll probably just snap your neck and leave you for dead."

"What about a short-range sniper?" Tony offered.

She blinked incredulously. "Where in the office would you hide a sniper?" she countered. "He'd know it was a set-up from the first."

Tony grit his teeth and hissed, "Well, what do you suggest, Princess?"

"I don't know!" she shouted in exasperation. "We have five minutes, and I … there's not plan that doesn't backfire on us spectacularly! Murphy sits on my shoulder," she growled to herself.

"Huh?" came Tony's eloquent response.

The girl rolled her eyes. "Murphy's Laws. Everything's gone wrong, at the worst possible time. The situation's gone from bad to horrendous, and the fifth damn possibility just popped up! We need some major blind luck, or our pooch ain't just screwed, she's pregnant with five puppies."

Gibbs cleared his throat, managing not to laugh. "Back up a sec. Maybe if you tell us a bit about him, we'll come up with a plan that won't get shot down."

The girl was as close to freaking out as she had been the first time Tony had met her, not that he faulted her reaction either time. Her protector was considering tying her down to stop her nervous pacing. "There's no time!" she whispered vehemently. "He's…" She paused, blinked. Twice. The third time, she smiled sadistically at the painting on the lab wall. "Blind. Back up. Shot down. And it's so damn simple, he won't think of it …"

The three men shared a worried look. "You got it?" Fornell asked, forcing the casual tone.

She glanced once at them, still with the evil expression. Kneeling down, she lifted her left pant leg and reached into her ankle brace. "You still wear that?" Tony asked.

She grinned victoriously. "Had this one commissioned last year," she said nodding. "Ankle still bugs me a lot." As she palmed her tiny gun, Gibbs and Fornell stepped back and reached for their own weapons. "Aw, stand down," the teen rolled her eyes. "I'm not gonna use it against anyone in this room. Besides, Tony only said that I don't need a weapon."

"You didn't admit to it," Gibbs growled.

"I did indeed allow you to think what you wanted," she conceded. "A gun has come in handy before, and this one will do so today."

"Boss," Tony stepped in, "now's not the time to take issue with this."

Gibbs grunted in agreement to his senior field agent's statement. "When have you used a gun before? How can we be sure you're a good shot?"

She turned to face him directly. "I wouldn't even be considering this course of action if I didn't have a license. And I will explain later, provided I survive this encounter. I promise. And yes, Agent Gibbs, that's the best I can give you at the moment!" She thought about something for a split second, then spun around. "Abby?"

The lab tech looked at the teen. "What?"

"Can you lock down every door in NCIS, except the elevator doors, from here?"

Abby hesitated. "Y-yeah, I can. Why?"

The teen nodded to herself, then met Gibbs' eyes again. "I know you're usually in charge around here," she acknowledged, "but we really don't have time for me to explain everything. To your satisfaction, or mine. So, I need you to … be an underling, for now." He paused, then nodded. "Same goes for you, Agent Fornell. Abby, when we leave … please do all that, and then switch to an internal camera feed. The one watching their desks. When Fornell, Gibbs, and McGee aim, unlock everything. Capisce?"

"Got it," Abby replied. After another split second pause, she added, "Be careful. For me."

"Only Tony and me in the line of fire," the teen tried to reassure her, though Abby looked anything but comforted. The agents and the teen left the lab then. Almost immediately, the girl turned around and ran back to Abby. "I just need one more thing …" She ran to the ballistics lab and raced back out with a gun magazine. "Thank you!" she called out as she raced up the stairs behind the agents.

Tony waited for her on the landing. "What was that all about?"

She didn't answer. Instead, she allowed him to see her 'evil genius' smirk. "Can I have your Sig?"

* * *

_Keeping in mind that this is "being shown" on USA, NCIS is brought to you by … BURGER KING!_

_*Tony, McGee, Abby, Tracy, and Jessi are sitting at a booth in a fast-food restaurant. Burger King Mascot hands everyone burgers.*_

_Tony: Gee … thanks, 'Your Majesty' … No offense, but you look fatter in real life than on TV!_

_*BK Mascot hits Tony upside the head.*_

_Tony: *rubbing head* Boss?_

_*BK Mascot takes off head to reveal Gibbs._*

_Abby: I think it looks great on you, my silver haired fox!_

_McGee: *chokes on fries, laughing*_

_Gibbs: *glaring at Tracy and Jessi* Really? You couldn't think of anything else?_

_Jessi: I did!_

_Tracy: It was either this or a Minnie Mouse dress._

_*Gibbs panics, puts BK head back on and dances off*_

_McGee: *trying not to laugh* What's his problem?_


	6. A Rose By Any Other Name

_**Chapter 6: A Rose by Any Other Name (Would Have Just as Many Thorns)**_

_Ah, the wonders of misquoting Shakespeare. At any rate, this is the last chapter for "Twisted Truth." As I will be leaving many unanswered questions, including the pesky little back story between Tony and my original character, there will be a sequel. Be on the lookout for "Altered Alias," coming soon to a fanfic page near you!And I feel the need to say this now: At no time, including in the commercials, do I aim to offend anyone. That being said, in the 'coming attractions' part that takes the place of the commercial this time, I have intentionally worded things to create maximum chaos in your minds. MU-AH-AH-AH-AH! Again, no offense. Enjoy!_

* * *

Abby's voice had echoed through the building, ordering everyone for the third time to get to the nearest secure room. Ignoring the command, Tony pulled the stairwell doors open, allowing his guest to enter the floor first. She stopped short, watching the other agents work. Gibbs, McGee, and Fornell had already switched some of Tony's things from his usual desk to the one nearest the elevator. "Damn," the girl muttered in amazement, "either my ESP has gotten better since the last time I used it –"

"Gibbs has long lived by anticipating," Tony smirked as he walked over to 'his' desk. Carefully, he placed a gun magazine in one of the drawers and replaced it with the one she had just put down.

She collapsed onto the office chair. "Leave me your suit jacket, please?"

"It's Armani, so please don't drool," he teased as he tossed it to her.

"No worries, Tony," she replied, bringing her knees to her chest. As he walked away, she pulled the coat over herself as a makeshift blanket. Closing her eyes, she rested her left hand on top of the jacket and moderated her breathing.

"She already looks like she's asleep," McGee marveled quietly. A soft click of a gun hammer reminded them that this was no ordinary girl. The elevator doors opened, and a visitor stepped out. After the three shared a glance, Gibbs led McGee and Fornell into the newly arrived elevator. McGee, the only one to admit to his worry, asked nervously, "Do you really think it'll work out?"

The two older agents rolled their eyes. "It better," Fornell sighed. "Because, let me tell you, I am not sticking around if she ruins it."

Gibbs, true to form, retorted, "I hear there's an FBI agent who'd hire ya right out from under me. Give him a try."

"Too big a bastard," Fornell shrugged as the elevator doors shut.

The girl's ear twitched. It was obvious to anyone who was looking for it; the visitor, who was making no effort to be quiet, was not. He stumbled over to the desk she was sitting behind and laughed sinisterly as he pulled three objects from his pocket. He set the two rings on the desk for a moment as he popped a pill capsule apart. The girl paled slightly as he threw the shell into 'Tony's' wastebasket.

Continuing his preparation of the scene, he gently lifted her hand off of Tony's coat and slid one of the rings onto it. As he released her, he brushed against something on the desk. Picking it up, he smirked victoriously. "Too easy," he marveled, staring at Tony's gun with a predatory gleam.

As if on cue, Tony's voice cut across the room as he returned from the head. "I thought they'd stopped you downstairs," he said easily, as though he was speaking with one of his frat brother.

"Many have tried," the visitor boasted. "Yourself included. But all of them failed."

Tony growled as he came closer. "Get away from her, Cambell."

Jason Cambell laughed. "Why the hell should I?"

The girl's jaw clenched ever so slightly, as though she were biting her lip. Tony moved behind the desk, behind the chair as he said, in a matter-of-fact tone, "You'll die if you don't."

"Me?" Jason chuckled as he started walking toward Tony, who backed away by circling the desk. "You, and my little bitch of a niece, are the dead ones. "And I'm," he sang, getting cocky, "leaving."

Tony snorted as he came up behind the chair again. He spun it 180 degrees. The back of the chair was now facing the elevator. "That's never gonna happen, you arrogant little toe rag! You're not getting out of here alive!"

"And how, exactly, are you gonna stop me, huh?" Jason brought the Sig up and showed it to Tony. "I have your gun, you moron. You left it on your desk."

In the blue-lit elevator, Gibbs groaned as the three agents squinted through the just-barely-open doors. "Remind me to smack him for that later."

Tony sneered. "You're gonna shoot me with my own gun? Don't you think I have, uh, back-up?"

The criminal grinned evilly, aiming at the unarmed agent. "I don't care if you do or not. You and the girl will both be dead before you can pull it."

The agent stopped behind the girl, his back to the elevator. It whined as someone turned it back on, and the doors, miraculously, slid open in near silence. If Tony realized that the cavalry had arrived, he didn't make a big deal. Instead, he leaned on the back of the chair, tilting it back a tiny bit. "Well," he intoned sarcastically in mock defeat, "isn't that special?"

In a move equally practiced and instinctive, the girl's leg reached for the stars as she pulled the trigger. The bullet missed her and Tony's Armani jacket completely, she saw as she opened her eyes in shock. Tony pulled her back as Jason fell, fatally wounded, to the floor. McGee called out in panic for the senior field agent, who waved him off as he spun the chair around to him.

"It's over," the girl breathed woozily. Her eyes had glazed over

"It's over," Tony echoed, putting a hand on her shoulder. "You done good, kid."

Gibbs and Fornell rushed over to the dead man, even as the teen passed out. Tony caught her easily. "Princess?"

* * *

Dr. Donald Mallard examined the teen on his table. "It is quite disconcerting to ensure someone's well-being," he commented thoughtfully, "when one is surrounded by observers."

"Oh, my god, Ducky," McGee fretted, "I killed her. Tony's gonna kill me next!"

Gibbs smacked the younger agent upside the head as Fornell pointed out reasonably, "You only banged her head against the wall. I'm pretty sure she'd rather have a concussion than the broken bones she would've had if DiNozzo had dropped her."

Smirking, Abby chimed in, "I can see your tombstone now: 'Here lies Timothy McGee, AKA Probie. He banged the head of the female Gibbs; now on the morgue, he has called dibs.'"

Only Tony did not join in the tension-relieving chuckling. "Timothy, Anthony," Ducky assured them, "the young lady shall be fine."

As though those were the magic words, her eyes popped open, and she groaned. "Wow, not arctic white."

Tony rushed over and made sure the medical examiner's assessment was right. "Don't do that to me again!" he admonished.

"No promises, Tony, you know that," she croaked.

She sat up slowly, with both her protector and the doctor easing her efforts. "How do you feel, my dear?" Ducky asked.

She grinned sadistically and spoke over Tony's protest, "Well, Ducky, I feel – stop cringing, Tony; you're ruining my fun – I feel like the 700 tons of cinder blocks that I've had on my chest for the past eleven years have finally been lifted, but six or eight landed on the back of my head as they were being removed."

Tony shook his head, having known something disturbing was coming. McGee turned an interesting mix of pale and green. Gibbs and Fornell shared a Look, obviously wondering if that thunk had loosened a few screws.

Abby grinned. "I'll have to remember that one."

Ducky took a moment to find the right words. "That is … rather … a colorful description. Why did Abby refer to you as a 'female Gibbs'?"

"Because she acts like him," Abby replied.

"Because she sounds like him," Fornell said at the same time.

"Because of the eyes and ears in the back of her head," McGee added.

"Her attitude," Tony chimed in, "or confidence, maybe, is the better word. And her hand-to-hand skills."

"She'd be a good, scrappy fighter in the Corps," Gibbs admitted.

The girl in question shot a glance at Tony. "And here I was," she sighed, "about to say, 'It's the caffeine addiction.' Speaking of …" She held her hand out to Gibbs. "Hand it over. I need a fix. I've only had the one that I finished before we went to Abby's lab. Give."

He handed it over without hesitation, and she gulped down about half of what was left, shuddering in disgust. Ducky looked at her oddly. "How can you drink that?"

She chuckled once as she offered the cup back. "Hey, right about now, caffeinated sludge is better than non-caffeinated air." Tony laughed once in surprise.

Gibbs took his coffee back. Staring her down as he took a sip himself, he demanded, "Why don't you start explaining, to my satisfaction, Chelsey?"

She bristled. "Sure. I'll start right there." Her grin became feral, dangerous. "I'm not Chelsey."

Everyone but Tony flinched. "What do you mean, 'you're not Chelsey'?" McGee demanded. "You told us, point blank, that your name is –"

"Don't you dare put words in my mouth," she snarled. "I told you, point blank, what, at the time, you were 'supposed to call me.' I never said the words, 'I am,' or 'My name is.'"

"Then what," Gibbs snapped, "is your name?"

"If I were to give my name to someone," she stated angrily, "like a new co-worker, I'd introduce myself as Staci Cambell. If, however, you want to know my official title and full legal name…" I reached down to my ankle brace, and three of the federal agents went for their guns. "Oh, come off it; I'm sure my gun is in Abby's lab as we speak, just waiting to be processed. Unless one of you numbskulls decided, and somehow managed, to put it back for me …" They looked sheepish as she pulled out an ID and government-issued badge. "Officially, I am NCIS Special Agent Anastasia Isabella Cambell-DiNozzo-Rogan."

Tony's legs gave out. She looked down at him as he stared up at her. "Heh ... whoops?"

* * *

_**Teasers**_

_**Guess which of the following will be found in the sequel, **_"_**Altered Alias"**_

_McGee comes out of the closet_

_Tony fights Ziva … and wins?_

_Abby dyes her hair bubblegum pink_

_Gibbs buys coffee for Chelsey/Staci_

_Ducky: "I've never seen anything like this/ it before"_

_Abby eats something off of Tony's shirt_

_Abby and McGee have a conversation in Japanese_

_Chelsey/Staci starts explaining_

_Gibbs does the Chicken Dance_

"_They stuck me to the chair, permanently"_

_Tony goes undercover at Disney as Cap'n Jack Sparrow_

_Tony runs out of movie comparisons_

"_There go my plans for the night"_

_Ducky joins NBA and dunks over Yao Ming _

_Someone messes with Gibbs' sacred coffee_

_Ziva kills Tony with a bendy straw_

_**So you have 16 choices, and 8 of them are right! Review and tell us which ones you think are real or fake... And you don't need to give eight! The results we get will be posted at the end of the first chapter of **_"_**Altered Alias," but you'll have to read to find out if you were right! And keep those commercial ideas coming!**_

_McGee: *crosses fingers* Bendy straw … Please let it be the bendy straw …_


End file.
